No Regrets
by ZeroGain
Summary: Jo & Zane's reconciliation, or the beginnings thereof. It is in the same narrative AU as "Way of the Gun" and is effectively a prequel. 3rd person limited, Jo's POV. Tags: Jo/Zane, Angst, Dark, Drama, Hurt/Comfort.
1. Walking in London

**NO REGRETS**

1. "Walking in London"

_An invisible touch,__  
On the back of my neck._  
_Fingerprints lingering,_  
_Warm breath._

_I'm either going insane,_  
_Or I'm a human wire._  
_Receiving a signal,_  
_Desire… Desire!_

"No, dammit!" she swore to the empty car, punching the steering wheel hard enough to elicit a reproachful bleep from the horn, "No! Josephina Lupo, you will not cry for him! Not again!"

She prayed, silently, that no curious passersby would wonder shy the Enforcer was parked on the road's shoulder trying to convince herself that those weren't tears running down her cheeks. Every place she went, everything she did, night or day, he was there. She couldn't escape the memory of him; of her Zane Donovan, the man she had loved.

His memory was like ghostly fingertips pressing at the back of her neck, his touch dancing in half remembered patterns while his warm breath lingered in her ear and on… other places. She could even hear his voice saying words that this callow impostor could never muster! It was like being in love with a ghost and the reflection of that ghost was still there to haunt her for her sins!

It wasn't fair!

Even here…

She gazed out the car's window at the trail head. Trail F1775, a Forest Service route that would take her to a beautiful overlook on the hills north and east of Lake Archimedes. She remembered the overlook with crystalline clarity: a place she had camped many times before, it had been partially domesticated from the wild. There was a flat area where a tent could go up, one she'd carefully picked free of rocks and debris after her third visit. There were a few logs as well, short and old, drug into position around a low ring of flat stones that housed a fire pit.

Others had found the spot since she had, but it seemed that the rampant misuse that would be characteristic of a popular location in other regions was absent in her adopted home town. Whoever they were they'd either added to the utility of the site or left it otherwise undisturbed. Everyone who visited seemed to respect it's sanctity, and there was never any detritus left behind. No cans or bottles, no waste product. As everyone lived by the mantra of "Take out what you bring in."

She'd discovered the identities of one of the campers by accident one weekend, when she'd stumbled on her Zane up here, already with a bedroll laid out to watch the night sky for himself, and a low fire burning. They'd been together then, and after the initial awkwardness they'd stayed that night there.

They hadn't looked at many stars.

She couldn't lie to herself anymore. Her shoulders began to shake and the real tears fell as she was racked by sobs. Even in today's light drizzle it still should have been a pretty spot, and a true outdoors adventurer in the Pacific Northwest is not deterred by rain. She had all she needed for a weekend excursion; tent, sleeping bag, food, fire starters, everything.

She had decided that this weekend she'd go to this special location and see if maybe she could remember what it used to be like, but the more she wished for it, the more she just wished the memories would go away. Now, they seemed custom tailored to torment her with dreams of what she could no longer have.

"Lupo, you girl!" she snarled at herself, disgusted with her own weakness. "Rangers don't cry! Crying is weak! Crying is for little ninny girls that…" she paused, choking on the next words of recrimination, barley managing to spit out the words like a curse, "That need their mommies!"

But oh she could have used her mom right now! Someone to take the pain away and tell her it would all be all right…

She got out of the car and turned her face skyward, blinking into the rain, trying to let it wash the tears from her eyes. She stared for a while at the general gray glow of the clouds hanging above. Up here they were close, not close enough to touch, but they didn't hang over your head like a vaulted ceiling. It would be night soon, but she couldn't tell the time by looking at the sky, the sun was obscured, hidden away behind a cold sky like her heart and her faith.

"Why, God?" she asked aloud when she could speak again. "Why did you do it? I loved him, I really did. Why did you take him away from me?"

No one answered. She waited for a long while to see if anyone would.

It just wasn't fair!

She had thought, a few weeks ago, that maybe she could unburden herself to Reverend Harper. But while Evelyn was a good woman and a wonderful pastor, perhaps her favorite in all the years she'd been a regular church attendee, Jo just couldn't get around the whole need for secrecy. Who could she tell her pastor that she'd lost? There were no great secrets in any small town, Eureka least of all, so anyone would know if she'd had a lover. It would only have been a matter of if they whispered about it behind her back or in front of her.

No, Reverend Harper would know that Jo had never been with anyone during her entire tenure as the minister of the First Church of Eureka, and the risk of discovery was too great. The revelation of those truths would impact everyone.

Anymore, she almost wished she could go to the authorities and out herself. "Hi, General Mansfield, I'm a time traveler and need to be sanctioned."

He'd do it too. He wasn't happy with her of late, and it would be an easy out for both of them. She'd be sanctioned and taken away, probably euthanized (because killing innocent people was wrong), and studied. Maybe even by some of the people she knew today. He would get to put the right sort of puppet back in it's proper place.

The pain would all go away, and she'd be able to say that she wasn't a coward because, after all, she wasn't the one pulling the trigger, right? It wasn't like she was committing suicide, was it?

But it wouldn't stop with her. If she went out the repercussions would be huge. They would lash back and catch Jack, Henry, Douglas and Allison. Jack and Allison were finally together and they were happy! They deserved that, she reasoned, even at the cost of her own soul-deep pain. Henry and Grace too…

And then there was Zoe. Jo still loved Zoe Carter like a little sister, and in many ways was closer to her in this timeline than she had been in the last, all except for the whole Zane thing… but the sanctioning? She'd be taking away Zoe's father and sister, and maybe even future step-mother all in one fell swoop.

A ranger always looked out for her comrades too. It was right there in the Ranger Creed. Never shall I fail my comrades. I will always keep myself mentally alert, physically strong, and morally straight and I will shoulder more than my share of the task whatever it may be, one-hundred-percent and then some.

She reflected on what a miserable failure she was at sustaining that commitment.

The tears were finally gone, only the hollow pit in her heart remained. A mile deep hole gouged out by loss, pain and duty.

She would do her duty.

She got back in the car and drove back to her empty home.

She failed to notice rider on the black motorcycle parked a few dozen yards down the road, partially hidden by a stand of foliage in a false road start. She didn't see him flip down his visor and pull out behind her and begin following, keeping the distance between them.

_I've been east! I've been west!_  
_I've been north! I've been south!_  
_I hear your voice, I see your face,_  
_I feel your hands, I kiss your mouth!_

_And I'm walking in London,_  
_And you are watching me walk._  
_Talking Italian And you are hearing me talk_

_Singing in Sydney,_  
_And you were sitting right there Feeling you in me,_  
_Everywhere… Everywhere!_

* * *

_**Disclaimer: **I don't own Eureka, it's characters, or its concepts, I'm just playing for fun and an educational experience. Additionally I own no rights to the songs and lyrics of Johnette Napolitano and Concrete Blond._

_**Author's Notes: **This is my attempt at reconciling how Jo and Zane got back together prior to my story "Way of the Gun"._

_"Walking in London" is on the album of the same name by Concrete Blond._

_"The Beast" and "The Sky is a Poisonous Garden" are on "Bloodletting" also by Concrete Blond._

_It's almost two decades after I found them and they are still one of my favorite bands!_


	2. The Beast

**NO REGRETS**

2. "The Beast"

_The prey of the Beast Screamed bloody murder._  
_The line is so fine Between hoping and hurting._

_Former believers,_  
_they beg for release, as  
Love looking down on them  
Smiles and picks his teeth._

Jo grew hungry on the way to her cold and empty house. She knew that being there would not bring the comfort and solace she had once hoped for when living in the madness of Jack Carter's life. The place was big, too big for one person, and though it had many of her favorite things it just felt empty.

Drained from the self-inflicted emotional drubbing on the road side, she didn't consciously make the choice to stop at Café Diem for a take-out dinner, but blinked dully at the sign once she realized she was there.

"What the hell." she muttered. "It's not like it can get any worse..."

She did a quick survey of the parking area but didn't spot the impostor's motorcycle, it was then a safe bet he was not here. Probably practicing those moves of his on Zoe… the though made her angry and sick and horribly lonely, but also protective and defensive as well. She couldn't believe that she'd actually advocated this relationship! She angrily shook her head to banish the ghosts and went inside the eatery, braced to endure the curiosity singularity that was Vincent.

The interior of the place was decorated in its usual eclectic mix of hometown café and grab-n-go diner, and yet somehow the hipster lounge around the fireplace seemed to mesh, the two styles complimenting rather than detracting, the synthesis creating a place of warmth and welcome.

"Jo!" beamed Vincent from the back of the restaurant, coming out with a double armload of unidentifiable plates. The double-stack burger top-heavy with bacon and a full load of fries in the mix instantly told Jo who at least one half of that order was. A quick glance confirmed as she noted Jack and Allison sitting up in the booth section with both Zoe and Kevin, and little Jenna in a high chair. They also heard Vincent's half- bellowed greeting and looked up in her direction in surprise.

All except Zoe. The look the younger woman gave her was incisive, and not altogether friendly. Jo flinched from her gaze, waved hardheartedly at them, then pointedly moved away toward the bar, breaking line of sight with the Carter/Blake family scene and Zoe's glare. In a brief second she noticed Allison Blake frown slightly in concentration and then slide her eyes over to Zoe. Jo didn't miss it, but the younger woman did, apparently.

This side of the bar was largely empty. A lab technician from section 3 who's name she didn't remember was sitting two spots away from her, but they paid little to no attention to each other. Presently, Vincent was standing in front of her, his large face split into a huge grin and his physically intimidating size almost buoyant in his apparent joy at her arrival.

"Jo! What can I get for you?" his nearly giddy excitement almost succeeded in breaking the black cloud hanging over her, and she tried for a smile. The change in his expression warned her that she hadn't succeeded very well. "Oh, no!" he said in an aggrieved voice. "What happened? You have to tell me! Here, let me get you some tea first, okay?"

He didn't even wait for an answer, instead immediately turning toward some of his kitchen machinery and setting immediately to work. In very short order she found a hot peppermint tea with, of all things, a small candy cane hanging off of one edge sitting in front of her. She smiled her thanks at the master chef and picked up the tea cup to enjoy the first sip. Whatever secret he had, virtually no seeping was ever required when Vincent made tea. The minty-sweet warmth flooded her for a moment with relief and barely remembered joy, though it was brief, it was welcome.

She favored him with an appraising glance. Vincent was a big man, big enough that you'd expect him to have a rich booming basso of a voice something like Michael Clarke Duncan's, and with those big sideburns to be imposing and rough and… but that wasn't Eureka's Vincent. The man was soft and caring, always ready to minister to any of his customers' needs, and more often than not dismissing charges for frequently going above and beyond for them.

That he was most obviously gay didn't bother Jo in the least, and she was glad to live in a town that, despite what most urban folks would think, didn't live up to the prejudice that all small towns were little cauldrons of hate. Even Reverend Harper was good friends with the big man.

"I'm sorry, Vincent. I can't talk about it." she said softly.

His brows knitted together as he straightened up slightly. "You'll have to do better than that, Jo. You look like ten miles of bad road, if you'll pardon the expression. I'd guess someone ran over your cat, but you don't have one."

She chuckled bitterly to herself. She _felt_ like ten miles of bad road. Abused and untended, left to the uncaring hatreds of time and misuse, alone and barely visited except by old shades of a dead lover who would never return. She shook her head and glanced up at him again, pleading with her eyes for him not to press.

Vincent is one of those that can read eyes. He sighed, aggrieved, but respected her wishes and didn't press. "What can I get for your, then?"

"I don't care." she said, followed immediately by, "Sorry, Vincent, I'm just not in the mood to try and stump you or anything. I just need food so that I can go home. I didn't feel like cooking at all."

He nodded and beamed at her, saying, "Don't move, I'll fix you right up. I'll make at least two days for you. That sound okay?"

She nodded mutely, almost on the verge of tears again at his gesture of kindness. She scolded herself, internally this time, that it was wholly inappropriate for her to cry like a little girl, first, and here second! So, she let herself fully enjoy the tea, savoring its flavors, warmth, and taking what small solace she could from it.

She felt like a part of her was pacing like a caged animal, or worse yet a bait animal tethered to a stake, waiting for the predator that hunted her, all for the amusement of a higher authority what hunted the predator; a vicious game of hurt and longing, all for the amusement of others.

She'd been sitting there, now down to the dregs of her tea, waiting for Vincent to return, when the door to the café opened. It had done so more than once since her arrival, so this time she paid it no more mind than any other. By now she'd taken advantage of Vincent's offered shot of ouzo and was letting the drink's fire burn its way through her, sacrificing some of her own worries to the bonfire inside.

Vincent was just returning to the front, two of his specialized take-out wonder-bags in hand, when she realized that the new person in from the cold outside wasn't moving to a stool or a table behind her, and then she felt _him_ standing behind her.

The impostor.

She could sense him, no more than that, she could smell him. His scent was leather and denim, a very faint hint of cologne, and that undefinable musk that some men have. It wasn't sweat or stink, it was a sense that just seemed to convey power and presence. She'd spent nights curled up with the real Zane, just enjoying his scent.

The impostor smelled different, just slightly. It was more urgent on him, more needful, more angry. The cocky, brash, self-assured young man she'd first met and fell in love with was long gone, if he'd ever existed outside of her fevered imaginings. The longer they went in this new reality, the harder she had to fight to keep those memories at bay, and she was tired, just so sick and tired of trying to keep old ghosts from eating her alive!

"Why won't you let me go? Why?" She wanted to rail at the cold and uncaring heavens; at the ghost of him. She doubted anymore whether there was anyone to listen to her pleas.

_Trapped in between Heaven and Hell,_  
_He knows all the secrets You don't want to tell!_

_There's nowhere to run and  
There's nowhere to hide,_  
_Love knows you all to well,_  
_He will find you!_

The impostor hadn't moved. He stood there, behind her, as though waiting for her to acknowledge him. Vincent paused, the great beaming smile on his face freezing and fleeing in a moment of shock as he stared at Jo and the impostor.

She refused.

"Lupo" he growled. There was one of the hugest changes between the impostor and her nonexistent Zane Donovan. The anger. Oh sure, her Zane had been angry, but it wasn't this sullen bitterness that this one wore around like a favorite old jacket.

"God dammit, Jo! Look at me!" he said, low and urgent. Part of her wanted to turn around and fling herself into him, just say "Fuck it!" to everything around them, abandon all sense of propriety and need for secrecy and everything that burdened her new life and grapple with him in the hope that somewhere in there was HER Zane!

Instead she said "Go away, Zane." She tried for gruff and commanding, but it came across choked and weak, like a plea rather than a command.

"Like hell." he said. She heard in that a note that sounded odd. Like pain, like he might be on the verge of tears too, but she dismissed it. Not this Zane, not this uncaring horn dog son of a bitch who'd fuck anything with two legs and the right equipment!

"There's unfinished business between us, Jo. You owe me an answer!" he said, low and urgent. She couldn't believe it, he was making demands! Him!

Vincent came up to them and set the food down on the table with perhaps a touch of unnecessary force. The cheerful happiness he'd worn for Jo wasn't present for Zane right now. She'd seen Zane welcome in here before, but right now it appeared that Vincent was making a choice between them, and he'd chosen Jo.

"Zane, unless you're going to order something, I'd like you to leave. Now, please." he said. His voice had a note of granite in it. His body language had shifted from his usual genial nature to imposing and threatening.

"There it is," she thought, "I knew he had some of the bear in him." Vincent angry wasn't a pleasant sight. While Zane might actually be able to mop the floor with the bigger man, none of them doubted his sincerity and earnestness, it was that complete.

"If you want to wait outside I'll make something for you, just leave her alone for right now, okay?" He said. His question was more of a command than a query.

The impostor of her Zane huffed a sigh, muttered to her, "We're not done, Lupo." and walked out the door.

The genial concerned Vincent was back almost immediately. "Oh my goodness, I thought I might actually have to throw him out physically! Oh my gosh!" he prattled for a second, laying his hand on hers and smiling.

"I'm so sorry about that! He's been in a tizzy for a few days now and he's not very pleasant to be around. I suppose I'd be mad too if I'd been accused of treason but..."

Jo shook her head at Vincent, smiling a little. "Thank you, Vincent. What do I owe you?"

He gasped as he looked at her, one hand fanned out across is heart. "Oh goodness, Jo! Nothing! You need some comfort food and that's my best, I hope it helps."

She choked back a few more tears and stood, gathering the bags. She leaned in quickly and pecked a kiss on his cheek while saying "Thanks, Vin. You're the best." and then she beat a hasty retreat. She pointedly did not look at the happy Carter/Blake ensemble, though she felt at least one pair of eyes burning into her back as she left.

Back out to the car. Put the bag in the car. Start the engine. Carefully un-park. Drive. Simple tasks, no thought required. If she thought she'd break down again, and, she reminded herself yet again, rangers don't cry!

She was so preoccupied with her focus on her tasks that she didn't notice the black motorcycle that pulled out of a side street as she passed. The rider kept the headlight off and refrained from running the gears hard, and thus made little to no sound as he trailed Global Dynamics' Chief of Security to her residence.

_Love is the leech,_  
_Sucking you up,_  
_Love is a vampire,_  
_Drunk on your blood._

_Love is the beast that will Tear out your heart._  
_Hungrily lick it and Painfully pick it apart._

* * *

_**Disclaimer: **I don't own Eureka, it's characters, or its concepts, I'm just playing for fun and an educational experience. Additionally I own no rights to the songs and lyrics of Johnette Napolitano and Concrete Blond._

_**Author's Notes: **As much as I want Jo and Zane to have happy, after the change in the equation I don't know how it can start soft and cute again. There's too much hurt and anger balled up in both of them for it to either be healthy or nice._

_If you've read "Way of the Gun", then you know the Zane in my stories associated with it is an angrier, more embittered man. In season 2 he was caught at just the right time and given the reason to care. That never happened here._


	3. The Sky is a Poisonous Garden

**NO REGRETS**

3. "The Sky is a Poisonous Garden"

_Sip your tequila, give me some time_  
_To unlearn all I've learned, for this spring to unwind._  
_And then came your sweet gentle mouth_  
_I began to move mine!_

Jo pulled her car into the driveway and parked it under the carport. She'd opted for a separated carport and garage structure because she didn't want anything taking up that kind of space inside the house itself, so the carport was attached to a garage building that had a small "granny" apartment up above. She hadn't had that furnished just yet, and didn't really have a need for it, but it was similar to the house her mom and dad had lived in, back when they were still alive.

One of her secret hopes, once the horrors of the changed time line had sprung themselves upon her, was that maybe one or both of them were still alive, but no. It looked like Henry's idea that their changes were like ripples in a very large pond held true. Her life up until Eureka had been largely unchanged, to the extent that she could discover at any rate. It really sucked to have parts of your history classified at a higher security clearance than you yourself possessed!

She sighed, putting away her foolish hopes. What did the universe care for what she wanted? She was crafting a new maxim in these horrid months. Life was pain. You either learned from it or you got chewed up and spat out on the other side. She crucified the flash of guilt that sprang up inside her, telling her that she should damn well go to church because that is not what she believed, but it was hard to have belief sustain you when the foundation you were hoping to build your life on suddenly vanished.

How was it possible to find the rock to build on? The entire world was sinking sand. What was the point?

As she exited her car she took a moment to look up at the sky. Sometime in the early evening the cloud cover had blown away, and a chill pressed in upon her. Without the insulation of the clouds the temperature had dropped perceptibly. The stars above shined down below, illuminating the land about in the stark and cold majesty. Eureka was far enough away from Salem, Eugene, and Corvallis to not suffer any light pollution from those cities, and most of the lights in Eureka were centered on the main urbanized core. There were few lights on in the surrounding area to distract from or bleed out the simple awesomeness of a crisp Eureka night sky.

She stared for a while at the sky. It too reminded her of that night on the lookout with Zane… with the real Zane. True, they hadn't looked at the sky much, but a particular memory haunted her. He was spooning behind her, and they were both partly on their backs. They'd mated the sleeping bags together and he had a memory foam ground cloth that made this almost as comfortable as a real bed. Of course, being so close to him in the afterglow contributed a hell of a lot too.

She had been drifting off, staring at the night sky. They'd chosen to forget about the tent. Star watching had been his avowed purpose when he'd got there in the first place. She'd succeeded in distracting him from that. Mostly.

It hadn't been their first time, they'd been together a few times before, but it was probably the most memorable of their early encounters. He was still painfully new at being with her, and for all his avowed experience, he'd been shy and fumbling and so very cute.

They had lain there, staring up at these same stars, guessing at life on far away worlds, or trying to determine what might decide to surprise them next. It had been before Henry's space ship and the Kim 2.0 incident.

She wiped away a tear from her eye, and tried like everything to crystallize that memory, to freeze it in place so that she could live it again and again.

It seemed that a moment of clarity dawned on her just then. Why fight the old ghosts? Just give in, the memories were good, the laughing and loving were the best. Just wallow in the old memories until nothing else mattered!

There was a movie he had loved, she never understood quite why. It was called 'Strange Days'. Set at the turn of the millennium, it starred Tom Sizemore before he'd become a drug abusing mockery of his former self, and Ralph Fiennes as a junk pusher who peddled stolen memories. She'd dug the cinematics plenty fine, but she preferred Bigelow's later work 'The Hurt Locker'.

She wished now, however, that she had that fictional device that Ralph's character Lennie had in the movie, so she could push the memory onto a disk and sit in her cold, empty house and live the glory of the past over, and over, and over again.

A past that never was… a past that would never be again…

Yeah, it hadn't worked out so great for Lennie either.

She was so enamored of the stars that she failed to hear him walking up behind her. Lost in her memories; she was no longer in this world.

"Lupo." He said slowly, calmly. It snapped her viciously back into reality, and she came crashing back to earth and herself in a rush, for the moment completely disoriented. She staggered forward, turning as if drunk toward the sound. She dropped both bags of food to the ground and brought her hands up in a defensive posture, ready to fight.

"Jesus!" Zane spat, leaping back away from her. He had almost been right on top of her as she staggered away. He quickly slipped from a befuddled stumble into a soft ready stance. Aikido?

She eyed the distance between them, gauging steps, and then snarled her outrage at him, "What the fuck, Donovan? Are you stalking me?"

He flinched from the venom in her voice, a look of hurt and confusion on his face. God dammit it looked so much like her Zane when he did that! It wasn't fair! This asshole wasn't her Zane, would never be her Zane!

"Christ, Jo! Ease up off the psycho throttle would ya? You looked like you were gonna trip!" he explained, his voice plaintive with injured pride and perhaps a little confusion.

"Yeah right! I'm not some star struck little girl you can bat your lying eyes at and charm her fucking panties in to dropping!" Then why the hell did she want nothing more at this moment than to grab him full on and molest him?

_Dammit no! _She willed traitorous emotions to still. She tried at least.

Zane didn't slip out of the ready stance, but he looked at her funny. "What?" was all that came out.

_Oh, great going, Jo!_ she thought.

"Look" he said, "I didn't come here for a fight, Jo."

"No, well if you don't march your ass off my property you're going to get one!" she retorted. She kept herself loose but moved into a variation of Krav Maga. She favored the Israeli style because it was based on fluidity of motion, on moving simply and easily, and doing the maximum amount of damage with the minimum amount of movement. No cheesy five-finger-death-touches or any crap like that, just simple, clean and maximum efficiency, and you could hide it in normal walking.

She kept loose as the stalked toward him. She snarled again, "Get out of here, Zane! I don't want to deal with you or your bullshit!"

That angered him. "Bullshit?" he half-yelled back at her. "I'm not the crazy bitch that had my grandmother's wedding ring on a chain around her fucking neck! If there's any bullshit around here it's coming from your end of the block, sister!"

He dropped the aikidoka and moved toward her at a pronounced stalk, his anger radiating off of him like a living thing. She almost flinched from it, but her wrath and her confused hurt overpowered his.

They met together a moment later. She fully intended to grab his arm, envisioned it. She would take it, twist, and fling him to the ground after a double palm-strike to his lower floating ribs, then snap down with her knee into his lower spine! That would teach this smug asshole what for!

She meant to do it, she swore, she really did. So when they met in the middle of her driveway, hands clasped to each others' bodies and kissing each other like they were a pair of drowning castaways, she never understood how it happened.

The kiss was a burning ember. All need and fire, lust, hate, anger, jealousy, desire… desire! God she needed him! It felt like he needed her too.

He broke away a second later, staring down at her. His lips were swollen, his eyes huge dark pools that she felt like she was going to fall into forever and never find her breath again! "What the hell?" he asked in a half whisper.

"Shut up!" she growled, grabbed his head, and hauled him down for another kiss.

She never remembered opening the door, later. Just that then next time she came up for air, or that she remembered doing so, they were inside the dark foyer of her house. The lights came on automatically, the limited home AI reacting to her presence.

"Where?" he half-snarled at her, in between kisses. He twisted her around like a toy, and she let him, so that her back was to his front and he trailed a line of rough kisses down her neck, interspersing them with bites. His hands locked onto her hips, pressing into her. He was so very hard, and the sensation aroused her even more. He ground against her, groaning aloud. She returned the gesture.

God that was familiar! The ghost of her Zane and this Zane started to merge.

She pulled him along, arms up behind her grasping at his head and arms. It wasn't an effective position for her, it gave him most of the control. Right now she didn't care

They made it into her bedroom. The lights followed them in. They were turned down low, and tinted faintly reddish purple. She didn't remember that setting, but didn't really care. She slipped out of his grasp, grabbed an arm on the way, and spun him around, slamming his back into the wall by the door. A painting jumped and fell off. Fuck it.

She dove into his guard, one hand clutching at his aroused member, the other pressing to the firm washboard of his stomach as she kissed the hollow of his throat and neck, returning each bite she'd received from him with a sharper, briefer nip. When he tried to reverse things she gripped him hard enough to send the message that no, this was her show.

Suddenly she remembered her Zane with utter clarity in a similar room, a similar passion, only he'd been nervous and letting her lead, not requiring her to force it. The dichotomy between the two of them hit her like a bucket of cold water and she flinched away from him.

He blinked at her as she moved away, eyes glazed with lust and need. "What?" he muttered, not cogent enough to realize what was going on. Men… all the blood for their brain went straight to their dicks as soon as they got a hard on…

"No" she said. "We shouldn't, we can't. You're not him."

He shook his head blearily, staring at her sitting on the bed. Her coat had disappeared somewhere along the way, her blouse was ripped open, the black lacy bra she wore visible. Zane blinked a few times at that, but didn't say anything. He obviously recognized it. He'd given it to her after all, in both time lines.

"God dammit, Jo." he snarled, "Don't do this! There's something between us, there's this- this thing! And I can't think straight around you!" His coat was gone too, she'd ripped open his shirt too. For once it wasn't a tee, but a button down number. Missing buttons everywhere, his torso was plainly visible, from the rock hard abs to the ripped pecks, all with a light smattering of hair in all the right spots.

"This thing between us is your dick and it's doing all your thinking for you!" she snapped, but regretted it. She knew she'd been at least half of what had started this, though the part of her that was clinging to her Zane was screaming irrationally that it was all this one's fault. He sucked all the air out of the room! She couldn't think when he was this close!

"Bullshit!" he snapped. "You fucking kissed me out there, Jo! You opened the door! You showed me the way in here!" he was shouting by the end. Then whatever anger animated him drained. He slumped back against the wall, banging his head against it repeatedly.

"I know something happened with you and the others, Jo. I _know_ it. I can track it and I can prove it." he said quietly.

She gasped quietly. It was tacit admission that he knew the secret, he could put away her and the other four, if he wanted to… Was this blackmail?

"No." he said softly, staring at her sadly. "No, Jo. You think I'd do that? You really think I'd do that to you and the others? For fuck's sake... You're the only people that have given me a chance these last few months! Shit, that sounds selfish as hell..."

He hitched his pants up a little, a part of her sighed at the loss of the view, another part of her was glad for it. "Jo, I don't know what the hell is going on between us, but wherever and whenever you come from, we meant something to each other. Whoever I was then, I gave you this ring!" He fished in his pocket and held it up.

She gazed at the familiar thing, the simple loop of gold was like a damned weight. It had been a stone around her neck, but ever since she'd thrown it back at him she'd felt more than ever like it had been her anchor to sanity, the one thing holding her to this earth!

"When my grandma died, she said I would give this to the woman I loved. She was the crazy old bat, Jo. The one constant in my life, the one that gave me the clarity to know what was really right and what was really wrong, and a complete silly mystic!"

He sighed and gathered himself a little, then continued. "She made three predictions in my life. The first two came true. On her deathbed she passed her ring to me, Jo. To me - not my mom - and said 'Zane, you will give this to your only love!'" There were tears in his eyes now. He slapped at them with his free hand. "God dammit, Jo! Somewhere, somehow, I gave you that ring!"

Jo was having a hard time seeing herself, his words rang with so much truth and pain. Her Zane had spoken of his grandmother in much the same way. The woman had been his rock, the foundation of everything good in his life, until he'd met Jo.

"Jo, I'm not him, whoever the fuck he was, I'm not him." His words were raw and ragged, drug out as if by force.

He took a deep breath and looker her dead in the eyes as if daring her to look way. "But I want to be!" he said, fire and passion giving his voice a ringing quality. "God, how I want to be!"

She shook her head. "No, Zane. We don't fit. We don't mesh, we're too… and what about tomorrow? What about the days afterward? What about Zoe?"

He flinched at the last. "We're done. I told her two nights ago. She's pissed as hell at me. But you…" he glared at her a little, the anger and lust still burning. "Don't you dare bring tomorrow to justify tonight."

He moved forward, toward where she sat on the edge of the bed. He'd said that too, the first time she wondered if they should be together… she stopped fighting the idea that they could both be her Zane.

She froze for a second when he grabbed her shoulders, firm and strong. She didn't resist as he pulled her up, and once she stood she took it the rest of the way under her own power. They came together into a fierce embrace, the need and want surging between them like a wildfire.

Her shirt disappeared quickly, and from there the clothes seemed to vanish. Some irritating barriers, others interesting toys in their little war. Past this, exact recollection recollection failed.

They were in the bed, so large and comfortable, it's softness around them. He lay atop her, and they seemed to freeze in a moment. He was poised, ready to enter her, but looking in her eyes for that one last approval before there was no turning back.

She growled softly in frustration, almost a whine, and levered him over, swiftly rolling on top of him. If he would hesitate, she would not. She grasped him, urgent for this, wanting it like she had never wanted anything else and craving completion. She gripped him and positioned him, an then he was inside her.

_Eleanor trembles, Eleanor moans,  
Somehow, this body is someone she always had known._  
_She cries tears on his chest  
Oh so silent and slow._

_He said "Please don't go!"_  
_She said "Please don't go!"_  
_And she sighed and she died  
In his arms and he cried nevermore!_

_The moon is cold and the stars are bright,_  
_And the sky is a poisonous garden tonight!_

* * *

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own Eureka, it's characters, or its concepts, I'm just playing for fun and an educational experience. Additionally I hold no rights to the words and lyrics of Johnette Napolitano and Concrete Blond._

_**Author's Notes: **Thus it ends and it begins. I hope you enjoyed it. Leave me a review either way, please._

_(04/16/11) - I chose to edit some of this chapter because I felt parts of it were a little weak. I also noticed that formatting on the songs was off, so I fixed the stanzas.  
_


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